


Turning Page

by moonburn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bare Footsies..., First Dances, Fluff, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2620094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonburn/pseuds/moonburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nothing prepared me for<br/>What the privilege of being yours would do<br/>If I had only felt the warmth within your touch<br/>If I had only seen how you smile when you blush<br/>Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough<br/>Well I would have known<br/>What I was living for all along<br/>What I’ve been living for"</p><p>Zayn and Harry dance at their wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Page

**Author's Note:**

> SO this is my first time writing something that resembles a tiny coherent fic, and it's not at all what I'd expected from myself, seeing as how I don't much care for cliche wedding stuffs. But here we are. Not beta'd, all mistakes are mine, this is completely fictional yada yada. I blame [this](http://acrowonawire.tumblr.com/post/102637339200/ishemyrockyeah-acrowonawire-replied-to-your-post). Songs mentioned are Turning Page by Sleeping At Last and Jessie's Girl by Rick Springfield. You can find me on tumblr [here](http://acrowonawire.tumblr.com)

Harry feels the lines in the corners of his eyes deepening as champagne dribbles down his chin. Zayn’s arm is curled around his own, a thin flute of drink tipped towards Harry’s mouth in his hand, miming the one in Harry’s. During the dinner rehearsals, Zayn had said feeding each other was awfully cheesy, not to mention Harry’s lack of coordination, but Harry insisted it was cute and would make for the best pictures, so of course here they are, aiming for each other’s mouths with cake and champagne and missing by great margin in fits of giggles. With a lurching laugh Zayn unwinds himself and reaches for a napkin, stepping close to Harry and wrapping a hand around the back of his head to steady him. Harry’s laughter settles into a soft huff, and he focuses on the freckle in Zayn’s iris as he brings the napkin up to softly clean Harry’s chin. Harry figures he should return the favor, and, with a quick smirk, leans forward to lick at the frosting sitting at the corner of Zayn’s mouth. Zayn gives him a quick tug at the hair of his nape but lets him have it, turning to brush a soft kiss across Harry’s mouth before pulling back. They turn around to the sound of applause coming from their loved ones who are looking on, and shrieking wolf whistles from where Harry is pretty sure Louis and Niall are sprawled in their seats. At the back he sees Liam stepping up to the laptop plugged into the sound system, and he reaches down quickly to give Zayn’s hand a squeeze. After writing his vows, picking their first song to dance to had been Harry’s favorite part of planning the wedding. He’d made sure Zayn didn’t mind, him being the one to pick it, but Zayn had just offered a reassuring, “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy, babe.” And this was important to Harry, using words to convey how he felt, to show Zayn all the love his heart couldn’t contain. Where Zayn expressed himself in touch and gesture, Harry needed words. It was what he loved about songwriting – that release of emotion in such a definite way. And now Zayn, and everyone they had invited to celebrate with them, was going to get to hear the song he had chosen for Them, Zayn&Harry, _Them_. 

“Alright! Ladies and gents! If you’ll kindly make your way to the dance floor, I believe the grooms would like share their first dance as a married couple!” Liam’s voice breaks out over the friendly murmuring that had filled the space. 

Harry tugs, and leads Zayn to the circle that’d been cleared out in the center of the tent. Before anything begins, they both pause and toe off their shoes, Zayn sending Harry a fond but exasperated smile. It was another thing Harry had insisted on – a barefoot first dance.

“I just want to feel… I wanna feel everything, I wanna feel it all with you,” he’d whispered after making the suggestion one night as they laid in bed. Zayn had taken his sweet time with Harry, covering every inch of his exposed skin with the pads of his fingertips before ever getting inside. And even then, he’d just gone slow and gentle, rocking deep and curling his hand around Harry’s neck, giving only the slightest bit of pressure. Harry’d felt all lit up and on edge by the time he came with a sob, oversensitive from the warmth on his neck to the ache in his toes as they curled. He couldn’t be for certain, scientifically you know, but it seemed like food tasted a bit better when he was with Zayn, music sounded a bit better when he could look over and see Zayn mouthing along, the candles he’d bought himself were never as comforting as the ones Zayn had given him –“This one reminded me of you Harry,”—and he could appreciate a good view. But a good view only got to his bones when he had the pleasure of sharing it with Zayn. He thinks maybe that’s what had been the red flag, that maybe what he and Zayn had could be more, that maybe he wanted it to be more. Life felt better with Zayn there to feel it with, and he wanted to feel it all. So, he’d asked they forego the wooden planks they’d considered laying down on the grass, and he’d asked for their first dance to be barefoot, even though a fierce blush had crept up his neck as he’d said it out loud. 

With the soft grass tickling the bottoms of his feet, he turns to Zayn and bows dramatically, watching Zayn’s nose crinkle up and reveal the curve of his teeth. It felt as though the air around them was glowing, with the lanterns hanging from the canopy and candles placed on the tables flickering softly. There was that familiar lit up feeling in Harry limbs, as though he had warm, twinkling fairy lights for veins. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, holding up his palm for Zayn. 

“Hey.” The softest smile. 

Harry pulls Zayn’s hand, covered with his own, into his chest. He lets his other fall to the hard valley low on Zayn’s back, and feels Zayn’s wrap around his shoulder. And then, as the tinkling of a piano begins, they’re swaying back and fourth, pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, the hands they’re holding wedged between them. 

“You know how much I love you,” Zayn whispers, breath tickling the shell of Harry’s ear.

“Yeah.”

“How much?”

“To the moon and back.”

“Yeah,” Harry can feel the rub of Zayn’s smile against his cheek. 

As Ryan O’Neal’s voice floats out of the speakers, Harry joins in, only for Zayn to hear. “Nothing prepared me for,” he half hums, turned into where Zayn’s hair tickles his nose, “what the privilege of being yours would do.” Zayn starts sweeping small circles into the plane of Harry’s shoulder blade. “If I had only felt the warmth within your touch, if I had only seen how you smile when you blush.” A low chuckle vibrates where Zayn is pressed to him. As he goes along, Harry begins to articulate a bit clearer. He needs to make sure Zayn hears, make sure Zayn knows. “I would have known, what I was living for all along…” He squeezes Zayn’s hand again, checking in as though it’s necessary. “What I’ve been living for.” Now, along with the muted scratch of Zayn’s stubble, there’s wet. Wet sliding between their faces. Harry’s sure he could melt right here, his heart burning a fever pitch. Of course, of course Zayn is the first one to cry. Harry was the one who loved indulging in a bit of romance and dramatics, but it was Zayn who always got proper emotional first. Harry starts pressing tiny kisses into the side of Zayn’s face, tasting salt on his lips. Then, kisses across his cheek, under his eye, on the tip of his nose, to each of his eyebrows, all the way to the other side. 

Looking into his eyes now, Harry speaks, “I can’t have you crying, because that’ll make me cry, which will make you cry even more, and we just really can’t have that with everyone watching.” Zayn lets out a wet laugh, and takes his hand from between them to join his other around Harry’s shoulders.

“We look like a couple of school kids, carrying on in each other’s arms like this, don’t we.”

“Hey, you can thank me Malik, I know from a very reliable source that you didn’t go to your prom ‘cos you were too shy to dance in public,” Harry beams at him, as they separate at the end of the song. Harry feels buoyed up, under the gaze of their friends and family, in Zayn’s arms. Completely filled to the brim with love. 

“Mmm s’a bit different now though, innit,” Zayn grins back, a glint in his eye. 

Without prelude, Liam’s voice bursts through the tent again, “Lovely boys! But hey! Now, Big Payno is here to get this party properly started! This next tune, is per special request by our own Bad Boy Malik. Everyone! Let’s have it!”

The second he hears the first notes on a guitar, Harry’s mouth drops into a big, open smile, his eyes going wide. “Zayn you remembered,” he exclaims. With a poke to his ribs, he raises his voice, “you know you have to do _the dance_ now! You know it, you know it!!” 

Zayn starts bouncing out of Harry’s reach. “’Course I know it, why d’you think I picked it. I’ll always dance with you, love. Always, always.” And with that, he runs out to the center of the dance floor, amongst the shimmying bodies that have joined them. He begins to hop back and forth, getting into the rhythm, and Harry can’t help the squawk of laughter that escapes him, throwing his head back and slapping his thighs. That lit up feeling. He runs out to Zayn’s side, and starts in with him, jumping from side to side, waving their arms out front in time with Rick Springfield’s wailing, just like old times. Just like right now. Harry hasn’t felt this present in a long time, he’d gotten a bit lost in the whirlwind that their career was. But now he realizes he’s come back to home base, he’s touched ground. And here’s his mum and dad and sister, and Zayn’s family, and the boys, and their families, just like they were there at the beginning, when it all started. And Zayn. The ever-constant touchstone. Here they all are, digging their toes into the Earth, celebrating a great love. Harry’s landed, and it’s more than he could’ve ever dreamed it would be.


End file.
